CSI:Miami What if? But Not Forgotten
by A Rhea King
Summary: A what if... After Chrissie has stalked Ryan for a year she kidnaps him and escapes the country with him. Ryan begins to lose hope he'll ever escape his tormentor, until he meets a Russian agent who will help him escape for a price.
1. Iowa, 1 year, 11 months Ago

But Not Forgotten : But What If?  
By  
A. Rhea King

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was hit by a 'what if' thought one night and here's the result. If you read the first version of this, the first six chapters read the same, then things go all 'what ify' on ya. What if Chrissie decided not to kill him? What if she did escape the country with him? What if..._

**DES MOINES, IOWA : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Gagged and bound to the sides of the coffin, Ryan was helpless. He heard voices: two females and at least four men. They were outside the hearse negotiating a drug sale.

"What's in the other coffin?" the second female asked.

"My pet," the first answered.

"Pet?"

One of the men laughed. "Chrissie decided to keep this cop she has a crazy obsession over."

"Don't call me crazy!" Chrissie snapped.

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Forgot what?" one of the men said.

"You have a cop in there?" another asked.

"He's not a cop anymore," Chrissie said and then laughed, adding, "He's my pet!"

"This I have to see!" the 'forgot what' voice cried.

Footsteps come near the hearse and then the lid was opened. Ryan blinked against the bright sunlight, trying to focus on the dark form at the end of the coffin. When he could finally see him, he didn't even bother trying to ask for help. The man's appearance was enough to tell him this guy was not a savior – his hair was long and stringy and his shirt looked like he'd been wearing it for a week.

"Oooo EEEE!" he laughed. "You really do gotta cop in here!"

The others gathered around. Chrissie smiled, reaching for Ryan's leg. He tried to pull away, forgetting is ankles were tied to the coffin. She rested her hand on his leg.

"My pet," she crooned.

The man started toward him. "I thought you were talking about a dog!"

What happened next was somewhere between a blessing and a curse. Ryan knew what the guy had in mind for him and all his struggling wasn't going to stop the guy. Suddenly Chrissie drew a gun and shoved it against the man's temple. He laughed, looking at her so it rested against his forehead.

"Come on. Isn't that why you kidnapped him? Use him to keep the cops away and get your jollies off?"

"My pet," Chrissie told him, her voice suddenly cold and sinister.

Ryan hadn't heard this tone before but instincts told him that some switch had been flipped and that this guy was perilously close to where her sanity met insanity.

"Oh just let him have him, Chrissie," her accomplice told her. "Maybe he'll stop fighting you if you break him a little."

The man turned, moving toward Ryan again. Chrissie cocked the gun and he froze again.

"My. Pet," she told him. And then pulled the trigger.

Ryan cringed when blood and brains splattered him. The man slumped over the end of the coffin, spilling blood into it.

"CHRISSIE!" her accomplice screamed.

She grabbed the corpse and pushed it out. She turned, aiming her gun at her accomplice.

"My pet," she repeated.

"Okay. Okay, Chrissie. He's yours. We won't touch him unless you say so. Just… Don't shoot anyone else, okay? We need buyers."

"Okay," she said, smiling happily. She turned, laying her free hand on the coffin lid. "Sorry about that, Ryan. It won't happen again." And then she closed the lid.


	2. Miami, 3 years ago

**MIAMI : THREE YEARS AGO**

* * *

Calleigh looked up and smiled when Ryan came into the room.

"Welcome back, Ryan."

"Thanks. Anything interesting to start on?"

"Sure!" She turned and picked up a twelve inch by twelve-inch box and sat it on the edge of the table. Whatever was inside rattled like cornflakes.

"What's this?"

"We had a multiple gang shooting. These are all the spent rounds mixed with some bullets. You can run all of them through IBIS for me."

Ryan looked up at her. "How many are there?"

"I stopped counting at three hundred. Have fun."

Ryan sighed, looking at the box.

"Ryan," the receptionist said as she walked in. He turned, looking at the long envelope she held out to him. "This came for you this morning."

"Thank you." He took it and she left. Ryan tore it open, pulling the card inside out.

"What is it?"

"Congratulations on your employment." Ryan opened the card and two tickets fell out. He picked them up, looking at them. "I think this is for someone else."

"What is it?" Calleigh joined him, reading the tickets over his shoulder. "Lower prime tickets to the Miami Dolphins. Those things cost a fortune!" Ryan opened the card, letting her read it. "Welcome back, Ryan. I look forward to seeing you in the field. Me. Who is Me?"

Ryan shook his head. "I have no idea."

Calleigh looked at the tickets. "You know… After everything that's happened, maybe you should take this Horatio."

Ryan didn't answer. She frowned at him.

"You haven't even said 'hi' this morning, have you?"

"Not really sure how."

"You walk up to him and say 'hi.'"

Ryan frowned at her.

She smiled, patting his shoulder. "Okay. How about, instead, you take this to him so this doesn't come back to haunt you, and see how the conversation plays out. The bullets can wait."

Ryan slipped the tickets and card back in the envelope. "I'll be back for them."

Ryan left the lab, seeing Natalia down the hall. The two slowed to a stop.

"Good to see you back," she told him.

"Thanks. How's the practice coming?"

"Good. More target hits than misses these days."

He smiled. "Good thing. I'll catch you later."

She nodded and he continued on to Horatio's office, finding him reading a case file. Moving just his eyes, his boss looked up at Ryan as he entered.

"Mister Wolfe," Horatio said.

"Morning, H."

Horatio put the file aside and sat back in his chair.

"Ready for work?"

"Yeah. Calleigh already has something for me." Ryan held up the card. "This came for me." Ryan handed it over to Horatio. "I don't know who sent it."

Horatio opened the card and read it, then looked at the tickets. He sat them both down on his desk.

"Simply signed Me. Thank you for bringing this to me. I'll have Eric run them for prints and see if he can come up with anything."

"Thank you."

"Better get back to Calleigh."

"Yeah." Ryan walked to the door, and then stopped. "Hey, uhm, thanks for helping me get back on."

"You're welcome."

Ryan gave him a smile and left as Eric was coming in.

"Welcome back," Eric said in passing.

"Thanks."

Eric came into Horatio's office. "Finished with the B&E evidence. It was the husband staging it to look like a B&E, all for insurance."

"Good work Eric." Horatio motioned to the card, envelope and tickets. "Do you have gloves on you, Eric?"

He pulled a pair from his hip pocket and put them on.

"Another death threat?" Eric asked.

"On the contrary. This one is welcoming Ryan back to his job, with some very expensive Dolphin tickets."

"Are you going to tell him about the death threats?"

"They weren't aimed at him, Eric. They were aimed at us."

"Yeah, but the sender was threatening us if he didn't get his job back. Don't you think he should know?"

"We don't know for sure if it's directly linked to him."

"The writer said if we didn't get him back on the job we were going to die. I'd call that linked."

"The evidence hasn't proven one yet, has it?"

"No. Guess not."

"Alright. Then until there's a connection, Ryan doesn't need to know about the threats. See what you can find out."

Eric nodded. "I'll give you answers in a few hours." He left with the items

Horatio opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out an evidence box. He opened it, revealing dozens of letters addressed to the various CSI. Horatio took one off the top addressed to him and opened it, re-reading it: _If you don't reinstate Ryan Wolfe by the end of the month, I will make sure your son dies._

Horatio was concerned by how personal the letters had gotten. This person knew every detail about their lives, and hadn't started attacking them until Horatio had suspended Ryan. He suspected this person was stalking Ryan, but without any conclusive evidence, he didn't want to say anything. Ryan had just come back and this was the last thing he needed to worry about.


	3. Miami, 1 year, 11 months Ago

**MIAMI : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Horatio walked into his office finding Ryan sitting in a chair, staring at the stack of cash on his desk.

"Me has been persistent today," Horatio said as he walked up to the arrangement. "This is the sixth delivery isn't it?"

"Yeah. That's ten thousand dollars, H. And you should read the card."

Horatio pulled out the card and read it out loud, "Delko froze at the shooting. You should let your supervisor know. You deserve his position. Consider this a bonus for your last bust."

Horatio folded the card and looked out his office windows. Minutes passed in silence.

"Uhm…" someone said.

The two looked back. The receptionist was holding up a package.

"For Mister Wolfe?" Horatio asked her.

She nodded.

"Ryan, do you have gloves?"

Ryan got up and put on gloves. He took the package from her.

"Take this to Eric?" Ryan asked.

Horatio didn't answer until the receptionist left.

"I think we should talk about this stalker before you go."

"H., I know this is annoying, but I don't know—"

"Ryan, I know you're doing everything you can."

Ryan looked at the package in his hand. "Am I?"

"Yes. I have withheld information that might have helped you. I thought I was helping you, but now I think I was wrong."

Horatio waited for Ryan to look at him. "What information?"

"While you were suspended your stalker sent everyone in the department death threats. I didn't want to tell you until we had some evidence linking the threats with your stalker; which Eric found yesterday. Whoever licked one of the envelopes yesterday was the same female contributor that licked all of the death threat envelopes."

"Are the letters signed Me?"

"They are not."

"H… I'm getting a little scared."

"Perhaps we should consider having a uniform follow you."

Ryan grimaced. "Could we wait one more day on that? So far this person hasn't done anything and… Could we wait one more day?"

"Why is that?"

"It'll be really hard to explain to my date, on our first date, why I have a policeman following me."

Horatio smiled. "So, you finally took up the delivery girl's invitation?"

Ryan smiled, trying not to blush. "She's cute and she's been asking for four months. It's not her fault this psycho keeps sending packages through her company."

Horatio laughed a little. "No it's not. Enjoy your date, but don't let your guard down."

Ryan shook his head. "I won't. See you in the morning."

Horatio nodded his head once, watching him leave.

* * *

Ryan stopped in front of an apartment building and got out. He opened the passenger door for his date, Chrissie, and she climbed out.

"Do you want to come up?" she asked, motioning toward the apartment building.

Ryan hesitated. The evening had been pleasant, but there hadn't been a spark. Ryan sensed she was hiding something and although she was attractive, he wasn't prepared to deal with a woman carrying 'luggage.'

He glanced at the card pulling up in front of his. The trunk popped and the driver turned, doing something.

"I'd better just go home."

"Oh." She looked up at her building. "Well, would you mind at least walking me to my door?"

"That I can do."

The two headed to the front gate. She pushed it open and went up the stairs. Ryan followed behind her and she stopped at the first door. Chrissie fished for her keys in her purse.

"I should get a smaller purse," she joked.

Ryan looked back when he heard someone coming and watched a man come through the gate. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to light a cigarette. Ryan looked back when he heard Chrissie's keys drop onto the walkway. He reached down, picking them up for her. Ryan looked up into the barrel of a gun, and then into Chrissie's eyes. She smiled.

"I don't really live here," Chrissie said, "And don't say anything, okay? Cause, well, then I'd have to shoot the first person that tried to help you."

"Who are you?" Ryan demanded.

"Me, my pet."

Ryan started to say ask her name again, when he realized she just told him, and it made his stomach turn into a cold, tight knot. She was his stalker? She had been under his nose this whole time?

"What do you want?"

"You. Now let's go back downstairs quietly."

Ryan's hand moved toward the gun concealed under his sports jacket.

"You don't want to do that. Jerry has a short temper."

Cigarette smoke wafted over Ryan's shoulder and he realized the man that had come through the gate was standing behind him now. He slowly turned, facing Jerry. He moved back, making way for Ryan to go down the stairs, and then rested his hand on his own gun in a shoulder holster.

Ryan moved slowly down the stairs, keeping his eye on Chrissie. Jerry followed behind her, unconcerned. They reached the gate and he saw a car with a trunk open. He had to try to run now, or he may never get out of this alive.

In a burst, Ryan bolted. To his surprise, Jerry easily caught up with him. The man tackled Ryan in the middle of the street. Ryan turned, swinging a punch. Jerry dodged it, and then shoved a damp cloth over Ryan's nose and mouth. He caught Ryan's arm in a painful, pinching grip.

A sharp alcohol smell filled his nose that Ryan immediately recognized as ether. He tried to push Jerry's hand and the cloth off before the vapors knocked him unconscious. But it was a loosing fight that ended quickly. Jerry stood when Ryan lay motionless, flicking ashes off his cigarette. He tossed the cloth and then lifted Ryan over his shoulder. Jerry walked back to the car and dropped him in the trunk. He stopped when Chrissie leaned into the trunk to kiss Ryan's lips. She giggled, prancing back. Jerry smiled a little, getting in. She hopped into the car and slid up to him.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she said, kissing his cheek.

"Mm-hm. Let me go so I can drive, Chris."

She slid back to her side of the car, staring at the back where Ryan was now hidden.

* * *

Horatio was speaking to an officer when Calleigh came up. She smiled at the officer and waited until he left.

"Yes?" Horatio asked.

"Ryan's late, Horatio."

Horatio looked at his watch. "Have you called him?"

"I've tried his cell and his home phone. Natalia stopped at his apartment on her way a call and he didn't answer. His neighbor was Ryan was supposed to pick up his dog last night at eleven. He never showed."

"Was she able to get into his apartment?"

"Yes. He wasn't there."

"Okay. We need to find his car. He said last night he was going on a date with the On Time Delivery girl. We need to find her and see if she can tell us when she last saw him."

"There also hasn't been one delivery from his stalker this morning."

That lifted Horatio's eyebrow. "That is a bad sign."

"I'll let you know what I find out." Calleigh turned and hurried off.

Horatio pulled his cell phone off and dialed Eric.

"Delko," Eric answered.

"Eric, Ryan may be missing. I want you to go to On Time Delivery and see if you can speak to the delivery girl that bringing Ryan's packages."

"I'm on my way."

Horatio hung up, looking out a nearby window. His instincts told him they were about to have a nightmare of a case.

* * *

Eric walked into the office of On Time Delivery and the woman behind the counter smiled. Eric smiled as he showed her his badge.

"I need to speak to one of your delivery girls. I know her first name is Chrissie, she has long brown hair, and—"

"She was fired yesterday," the woman told him.

"Fired?"

"Yeah. She was billing client accounts for personal packages she was delivering to her boyfriend." She motioned at his badge. "Some guy that worked with you."

Eric's smile faded. "Did she ever mention his name?"

"Yeah. Ryan."

Eric was already starting to see all the clues they had overlooked coming together.

"Did she say how long they'd been together?"

"She said for at least two years. I guess they met when he pulled her over for speeding and hit it off. She was all ga-ga for him."

"Was she?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"I need her address."

The woman hesitated. "I don't know if I'm supposed to give that out."

"She kidnapped Ryan last night. So if you need to get your supervisor to release her address, go."

The girl hurried off to find her supervisor. Eric dialed Horatio.

"H., the delivery girl, Chrissie, she was telling people here they'd been dating and she was sending him the packages."

"Are you getting her address?"

"Yeah." Eric saw the girl coming back with her supervisor. "I'll call you when I have it." Eric hung up so he could talk to the supervisor.


	4. Illinois, 1 year, 11 months Ago

**ILLINOIS : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Ryan's adrenaline rush wore out miles ago. He had fought the men putting him in a coffin and tying him down. The fight hadn't earned his freedom, just a black eye and bruised ribs. They had been thoughtful enough to tear out the water seal around the edges so he wouldn't suffocate, but it did nothing for the heat. The box wasn't designed for a living person to be kept in it.

Once the adrenaline wore out, the rocking and sound of the road had lulled him to sleep. He tried to fight that urge, but his body was exhausted and weak. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since the morning of his kidnapping and all he'd done since was fight. Eventually sleep won.

The hearse came to a jerky stop, waking him. The engine was cut and he heard the doors open and slam shut.

"Chrissie!" someone called out.

He heard people talking but the conversation was muffled. It faded away and he was left alone. Ryan pulled against his restraints, twisted his ankles and wrists to pull them free until the plastic bindings cut into his skin and wet his skin with warm blood. Ryan stopped. He lay listening to silence, noticing there wasn't even the sound of birds or insects. Where was he? Slowly his mind began to wander away from his situation, to take him to places and times that had been safe.

He heard a door open and close and then footsteps on cement. The back door of the hearse was opened and the coffin lid lifted open. Chrissie smiled as she moved along the coffin. There was light coming in from around him, and he guessed he was in a garage or building of some kind – that would explain the absence of sounds. She was carrying a Styrofoam food container and cup. She sat it down on the floor, never taking her eyes off of him. Ryan almost begged for his freedom, but stopped. She had stalked and kidnapped him for him.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He didn't answer. She opened the container, doing something.

"You like ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise on your hamburger – but not that sweet mayonnaise, the salty kind. No pickles, double cheese and bacon." She smiled at him. "I know. I had them fix it just like you like. And the fries are crispy too. I got lots of ketchup for them. I would have gotten you a beer, but I think water is better for you. You should eat better, you know that Ryan?"

He didn't respond.

"Do you remember the night we met?" Chrissie stopped, looking up and smiling. "You were so sweet and gentle. I was a little out of it, but you weren't even rough when you handcuffed me."

"What?" Ryan asked. "I never…"

He stared at her face when she looked at him. He suddenly remembered what she was talking about. She was doing forty miles over the speed limit when he pulled her over. The plates had come back as a car reported stolen. When he tried to talk to her, he could tell she was strung out on something. She fought him at first, but when he laid his hand on her shoulder she stopped and got this doe-eyed eyed look on her face. He took advantage of it to get her handcuffed, in his squad car, and back to The Village that she'd escaped from. That explained why he'd always had a nagging feeling he knew her and why he had been uncomfortable through the entire date. If she'd been infatuated with him since then his trouble just got worse.

She leaned over the side of the coffin, offering him two fries dipped in ketchup. He turned his head away. To take food from her meant giving her control, and he couldn't do that, even if he was starving.

"Ryan, it's been almost five days since you had anything to eat or drink. If you don't eat something you'll die. Is that what you want? To die?"

Ryan stomach grumbled at him. He knew she was right, unfortunately. He had to eat something if he ever wanted to escape her. So he gave in and accepted the fries.

"Guess what state we're in?"

Ryan didn't answer.

"Come on. Guess."

Ryan accepted the next bite, but he didn't answer.

"Illinois. We made good time from Miami. We only left yesterday. Jerry does a little meth and he's up all night!"

Ryan ignored her as she continued to chatter. He was only interested in the sustenance she was offering him. She pulled the cup away before he was finished and moved them aside. She laid her hand on the coffin next to his and he noticed it for the first time. Was that another kidnapped person or a corpse full of drugs?

Ryan's thoughts were interrupted when Chrissie climbed on top of him.

"Feeling better?" she asked, kissing his neck.

Ryan pulled his head away, trying to pull away from her. "Get off!"

"Oh, my pet, I've waited so long for tonight."

Ryan dodged her lips when she tried to kiss his mouth. She giggled softly in his ear then sat up and pulled off her shirt. In the seconds between her dropping her shirt to her finger unfastening the top button of his shirt he realized what she was going to do to him.

"No!" Ryan hissed as he struggled to get her off of him.

She kissed him as she exposed skin. "Relax, Ryan. This won't hurt… Much."


	5. Miami, 1 year, 11 months Ago,

**MIAMI : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

The front door of the small apartment opened slowly. The apartment manager quickly got out of the way of the police and Calleigh. Natalia hung back, speaking to the small oriental man. The apartment was sparsely furnished and spotless. A policeman started down a hall and stopped at the first door. He pushed opened the door and she covered him. The bathroom was empty. There wasn't even a shower curtain hanging. They moved to the second door and opened it. The bed was stripped of bedding. The closet was empty. The officer and Calleigh moved to the last door and opened it. Calleigh slowly stepped into the room, staring at the shrine. It had every newspaper article and picture that had ever been printed. Mixed in with were internal crime scene photos that had Ryan in them.

Natalia came into the room. "Calleigh the manager said…" She trailed off, staring at the shrine. "This is…"

"Bad." Calleigh finished.

"It gets worse," Natalia added, remembering what she had come into tell Calleigh. "The landlord said she was placed here by The Village."

Calleigh sighed. "So Chrissie was either a serious drug addicted, mentally unstable, or both."

Natalia nodded, but she couldn't take her eyes off the disturbing shrine.

* * *

Eric typed in Chrissie's name and it populated on the screen before him, Natalia, Calleigh, and Horatio.

"There. He arrested her for speeding and possession when he was still on patrol," Eric said. "She had escaped The Village that morning and he noted in the report she appeared to be high on coke or heroin."

"So she just picked the first man that she saw and he happened to be it?" Natalia asked.

"No." Horatio's eyes narrowed. "Someone who is delusional needs something to set their fixation off on a person. My guess is something happened during the arrest. We're going to need a warrant to search her room and get her records from The Village. Get it, Eric."

Eric left to do as he was asked. "Ms. Boa Vista, pull up the report of his arrest. See if you can find anything that sounds unusual about it."

She left, leaving Calleigh and Horatio. Horatio touched the mouse and scrolled through a very long list of drug related charges and arrests.

"Chrissie Mandais… You are a very busy drug dealer…" Horatio told the screen.

"Maybe the kidnapping was really about drugs," Calleigh suggested.

"I don't believe so. Some of the gifts she sent were too personal for this to be about drugs. But it does explain the monetary gifts."

"We didn't get anything off them, Horatio. No drug trace and they weren't marked as stolen."

"Then they were well laundered. This woman must be well connected."

Calleigh turned to him. "So well connected that she could make Ryan disappear."

He looked up at her. "We won't believe that, will we? We will believe that we will find him. Somehow."

Calleigh looked back at Chrissie's rap sheet. Not even Horatio's words were consolation. This woman was mentally unstable and well connected – a deadly combination that could not possibly end well for Ryan.


	6. Utah, 1 year, 11 months Ago

**UTAH : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Ryan heard Chrissie talking to someone as they approached. She was telling the person about their drugs, a perfect saleswoman. Unfortunately she had that skill down and had sold a lot of drugs.

"What's in the other coffin?" a woman asked.

"Nothing," Chrissie lied.

Ryan would have barked back that she was a liar, but she'd taped his mouth shut because he kept doing it during her sales. Not that any of the people she was dealing with would ever try to help him, but he'd managed to sabotage a few sales by yelling and screaming and kicking the coffin. The only downside to this was when she had large deals she now shot him up with some kind of sedative.

"Oh come on, what's in there? It smells bad! Do you have a body in there?"

"No. I have my fiancée."

Her lie made his anger flare and he kicked the side of the coffin.

"Is he cute?" the woman asked.

The lid was opened. Standing next to Chrissie was another woman with long brown hair. Since she wasn't strung out, Ryan assumed she was a dealer.

"Yeah. He's cute all right. Could use a shave and shower though."

Chrissie looked at her. "He has issues with that."

"Like what?"

"Just issues."

The woman smiled. "Is he one of those mail order husbands? You can't trust them to go anywhere alone?"

"Pretty much." Chrissie closed the lid. "So, do we have a deal?"

"I need some time to think about it. Will you be here until tomorrow morning? I'll come back at eight."

"If you're not here, we're moving. We need to be somewhere in three days."

"Where's that?"

Chrissie laughed. "On a plane to Moscow. That's where we're getting married."

"Oh yeah? That's cool. Here's the down payment. I'll be back with a decision tomorrow, so make sure that down payment is too. If I catch it for missing money, I won't like you anymore Chrissie."

"It'll be here."

There was a short moment of silence and then Chrissie opened the lid again. She climbed in with him, kissing his neck where she'd been giving him shots of sedative.

"We have the rest of the afternoon to play!"

Ryan wanted to punch her. He wanted to bite and kick. He wanted his sidearm so he could shove it in her mouth and pull the trigger. As her hand started unfastening his pants, he turned his imagination to all the ways he could kill her.

* * *

Ryan didn't wake up right away when a hand patted his face.

"Hey, wake up."

Ryan tried to, but she'd given him a sedative shot before a large deal an hour ago and it was hard for him to find his way out of its fog.

"Wake up!" the voice hissed as the hand smacked his face hard.

The slight sting woke him and he looked up. The buyer from earlier was crouched next to the coffin.

"Sit up. It'll help." She grabbed his shoulder and arm, helping him.

Ryan lifted his hand and looked at it. Ryan sat up, his mind taking several seconds to grasp that the plastic ties had been cut. But it couldn't think beyond that to tell him he was free and needed run.

"Are you Ryan Wolfe?"

"Yes."

"Come on." She grabbed his arm. "Chrissie and Jerry are getting high with the other militia. We have to be get out of here while they're busy."

Ryan let her help him out of the hearse. His surroundings started spinning and he stumbled forward. She caught him.

"Hey, I can tell from all these holes in your neck she's been shooting you up, but if you want out of here, Ryan, you have got to fight this off."

Ryan focused on the woman.

"Who are you?"

"A friend that saw your APB. Come on."

Ryan let her pull him into a walk, trying to get his bearings on the landscape. There were a lot of trees between them and a gate. He could see a car sitting outside the gate.

"Your car?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah."

A gunshot rang out and Ryan fell with his would-be-rescuer. Ryan turned, grabbing her shoulder and then pulled back. She had been shot in the back of the head and it left a wide hole. Ryan looked up, seeing Jerry aiming a rifle at him. And next to him, Chrissie.

Ryan jumped to his feet and ran for the gates. Jerry shot two more times and somehow missed both times. Ryan reached out to grab the open gate. From seemingly nowhere, someone tackled him to the ground. Then there were a dozen more men and women beating him with their bare hands. He felt something snap in his left leg, followed by several ribs cracking. The pain made his head spin and he lost his ability to tell up from down.

"STOP!" he heard Chrissie scream.

They moved away and he tried to get up, but between starving to death, being dehydrated, and the injuries he'd just sustained, he had no strength left. He was rolled over and Chrissie knelt down. Ryan screamed when her knee slid against his broken ribs.

"That hurts?" she asked, then leaned harder on them.

Ryan screamed louder, trying to push her off. Chrissie punched him.

"Love hurts." Chrissie pulled a gun from behind her and pressed it against his forehead, cocking it.

Around her the people cheered and encouraged her to kill him.

Chrissie stood. "Put him back in the coffin. We're leaving the country tomorrow night, get rid of that hearse and coffin after we leave."

Roughly he was returned to the coffin and tied back in it. Someone tapped the lid and it slammed him back into darkness. Ryan closed his eyes, unable to fight back his tears any longer. He had been a dozen feet within freedom and that hurt more than his broken bones did. He didn't want to die, but he could only imagine how she was going to kill him. Why hadn't he made her pull the trigger to end his torture? Ryan cried harder, realizing she was winning. She was going to smuggle him and her drugs out of the country, and nothing he could do was going to stop her. And Horatio wasn't coming to save him.


	7. Miami, 1 year, 11 months Ago,,

**MIAMI : ONE YEAR, ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Horatio and Eric waited at the receptionist desk. Horatio saw a doctor coming down the hall and turned to face him.

"I'm Doctor Milner," he said as he stopped in front of Horatio.

"Doctor Milner," Horatio presented him with a warrant. "This is for the patient records of a one Chrissie Mandais and to search the room she occupied when she was here."

He took the warrant and skimmed over it before responding. "Until I can have our lawyer look over this warrant, I'll only let you read the records in my office, Detective Cane."

"I would appreciate that. Meanwhile, I'd like my CSI to have access to her room."

"She left here six months ago."

"We'd still like to see it."

"Let me make the arrangements to have the current patient removed from the room."

Horatio watched him head back down the hall.

"H, if she left here six months ago, what am I looking for?" Eric quietly said.

"Calleigh said there was a shrine at Chrissie's apartment. An obsession like that doesn't happen overnight. Look for anything that would indicate her obsession that the staff may have covered up."

Eric nodded.

#

Doctor Milner glanced up, watching Horatio walk up to him. He looked back in the patient's room that Eric was searching.

"Our lawyer said the warrant is valid, so I'll have my nurse make copies of the records," Milner told him.

"I appreciate that. I have a question about the records."

"What's that?"

"I see that Chrissie had an obsession with someone. Do you recall who that was? Did she ever mention this person's name?"

"No. She only called him 'her pet,' and it didn't start until a year and a half ago."

"The day she escaped?"

"Yeah. She was high, stole a car and was caught speeding. The officer that pulled her over brought her back in the middle of the night."

"Did you look at any articles about the person she was obsessed with?"

"No."

Horatio cocked his head to the side, looking sidelong at Milner. The doctor was lying, he could hear it.

"Not a single article? No photos? She never mentioned the name Ryan Wolfe?"

Milner frowned. "She only cut out pictures of this person, and yes, she did mention the man's name a few times. She was convinced he was her boyfriend."

"So you knew this was a real person she was obsessed with?"

"Yes."

"And you never thought to contact the police about it?"

"Detective Cane, if I called the police with every patient that came here obsessed with someone who really existed, the jails would be full of my patients."

"The night she was returned, she was brought in by patrolman Ryan Wolfe. He happens to be my CSI now. And he is also the object of her obsession, Doctor Milner."

Milner looked at him. He was a bright man and he understood what implications were unspoken.

"Has she hurt him?"

"We believe she kidnapped him, we don't know if she's hurt him yet or not."

Milner covered his mouth for a second. "I thought we'd moved past it. I didn't think she was even interested in him anymore."

"Why is that?"

"I ordered her to take down all of her pictures. She'd completely covered this room with pictures of him. She had several fits before she finally did as I asked. I never saw another photo or heard his name or her reference 'her pet' again."

"Horatio!" Eric called.

"Perhaps next time a patient is obsessed with a policeman, you'll contact us."

Horatio walked into the room, seeing Eric standing with one foot on the toile back and the other in the sink. He'd pulled off the bathroom vent cover and had pulled out a dusty shoebox. He handed it down to Horatio and then climbed down.

Horatio opened it and hundreds of pictures of Ryan Wolfe stared back at him. Eric looked from the photos to Horatio.

"We're never going to find him, are we, H?"

Horatio picked up one that had a heart draw around his face with smeared lipstick. It was pure hope that made him answer yes, while in the back of his mind he was telling himself no.


	8. Moscow, 11 months Ago

**MOSCOW: ELEVEN MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Ryan watched people walk by. They were free. They had choices. They could go where they wanted, do what they wanted, love who they wanted. He lowered his eyes to his coffee cup. One finger was looped in the handle and the dark liquid was to the top, rippling from the breeze passing through the open café. It had gone cold without him drink a drop. He ordered it so his guards would leave him alone and let him sit. He didn't look up when the waitress approached.

She spoke to him in Russian, not that he understood her. He started to answer but the man behind him answered first. She left, taking with her any hope of Ryan slipping her the note he'd jotted on the napkin. Ryan didn't look back at his guards. He wished they were there to protect him, but they weren't. Chrissie had told them to use whatever force was necessary to prevent him from asking for help or telling the police he had been kidnapped. But, Chrissie always told Ryan with a smile, he was free to go wherever he wanted, so long as he didn't make friends with anyone, talk to anyone, and left when they told him to.

He stood, dropping the napkin with the note on the table and weighing it down with a cup. He dug in his pocket and dropped the change he owed for the coffee. Then he headed toward the limousine parked a block down. He was aware that one of the guards followed. He didn't look back. He was sure the other guard was searching the contents of the table to make sure he hadn't left any notes for help. He'd find the one Ryan had. It was going to be a bad night. Again.

* * *

Ryan sat at the window, staring out at the world. He heard footsteps tromping down the hall – she was coming. Ryan drew a breath, bracing for it. Chrissie burst into the room with the guards right behind. She stopped in front of him, thrusting the napkin in his face: PLEASE HELP ME. MY NAME IS RYAN WOLFE. I AM MIAMI POLICEMAN, FROM MIAMI, FLORIDA. PLEASE CONTACT THEM.

"How many times do we have to go over this? It's been a year, Ryan. No one is coming for you. You're my husband and—"

"I am not your husband!" Ryan snarled at her.

She grabbed his chin, looking in his eyes. "You are my husband. I have the papers to prove it."

"I never signed it."

"An X works too."

"I AM NOT YOUR HUSBAND!"

Chrissie let go, flicking her nails against his skin. They had a harder time cutting his face since Ryan had let a beard grow. It hid the bruises and cuts she gave him on a weekly basis.

"What am I going to do to you?"

Ryan looked away. 'To you.' He drew in a breath and—

Her fist slammed his head against the wall and then she was punching and kicking him. He tried to defend himself. The guards charged in and held him down, letting her do damage to the man she claimed to love. Today's beating was short lived – she stopped when his lip started bleeding today.

Now came the worst part…

Chrissie moved close, running her hand down his face.

"My poor baby. You just won't let me teach you how to be a good husband, will you?"

Ryan didn't answer.

"How about a good lover? Have you improved any today?"

Ryan tried to pull back when her hand slid down around his crotch. He felt nauseous.

"Handcuff him," she ordered.

Ryan tried to fight as they drug him to the bed, pushed him down and handcuffed him. The guards left the room. Chrissie climbed onto the bed and began stripping him. He didn't bother begging her to stop – it had never worked. Ryan closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and prepared to be violently raped.

* * *

With the bed sheet pulled up to his neck and wrapped tightly around him, Ryan stared out the window at the sky. The door opened – the maid was coming in. He didn't move. She said something in Russian. The guard told her something. She moved around the room, out of his sight.

He hurt too much to even get out of bed. Chrissie had left welts and bleeding cuts all over his body, she had used sadistic sex toys to make him scream, laughing when he did. She had gone again and again, each time pausing to take a hit of coke. She tried to get him to sniff some but when he bit her hand for it, she didn't try again.

The maid came into view. He had never seen her before. She must be the replacement for Alted – she had been caught stealing drugs and when she came to work that morning, during breakfast, Chrissie shot her. And then went on like nothing had happened. Ryan had grown accustomed to seeing that kind of won ton violence from Chrissie so he also acted like nothing had happened. Alted had never done anything for him any way.

This young woman caught him watching her and smiled.

"Hello," she said with a smile.

Ryan looked away.

She came over to the bed to collect the trashcan and knelt down to pick something up. He looked down when she slowly lifted the napkin that had been the switch for Ryan's abuse and torture. She was reading it. Ryan looked away. The help didn't hurt or help him. For the first three months he tried to ask for their help, but they always walked away or gave his notes to Chrissie.

She looked up at him. His eyes met hers briefly. When he looked away she reached out, laying a gentle hand on his arm. He looked back in her eyes and she nodded. Ryan stared at her. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He knew the answer when she tucked the note into her shirt, under her bra, and went on cleaning the room.

He watched her, but did nothing else. If she was going to help, he didn't want to give her away and get her killed.


	9. Miami, 4 months Ago

**MIAMI : FOUR MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Horatio Caine entered his office, finding the morning mail on his desk. He hung his coat up on a coat rack, and then sat down, sorting through it. He froze when lifting a letter from the district court revealed a letter from Syria. It was thin and had postmarks from Iran, Iraq, Egypt, several African countries, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, a small border town in Texas and had been chewed as it went through postal hell to arrive on his desk. There was no return address or name on the envelope.

He picked up a letter opener and carefully opened it. Horatio unfolded the letter inside, catching a napkin that drifted from it. His breath caught – he knew that writing. Reading the napkin made him almost behave abnormal; he had to resist jumping from his chair and run out of his office to find Calleigh, or Eric, or Natalia, or just the first lab tech he saw and screaming Ryan was alive.

He carefully sat it down on top of the envelope and turned to the letter: _I find your name through your newspaper on Internet. I find when Ryan went missing. He is in Moscow in drug house kept prisoner. Chrissie controls there. She say they marry, he tells me he never marry. She hurt him often for making her angry. Ryan very sad and cut arms a week ago. When brought home from hospital, I tell him now I send letter and he promise not to hurt. I ask for help here to save him. I do what I can._

There was no signature.

"H?" Delko said.

He looked up. Delko stood in front of his desk with a worried look.

"Are you okay? I've been saying your name for five minutes and—"

"Ryan's alive."

It took Delko a minute to grasp what he was just told. "Where?"

"Moscow. Someone is helping him. I need you to start making phone calls to Moscow." Horatio handed the letter over. "Start with the American Consulate there, see what they can do to help us. If they can't help, call the Russian consulate here. If they won't help, we'll figure out what to do ourselves."

Delko took the letter, reading it. He dropped the case file he was holding on Horatio's desk and left.

Horatio picked up the napkin. "We're coming, Ryan. Hold on a little longer."


	10. Moscow, 2 months Ago

**MOSCOW : TWO MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Tonight Chrissie was dragging Ryan to an opera. Disjointed thoughts ran through his head while he sat on the bench at the end of their bed and waited for her to finish dressing. Chrissie pretended to be more sophisticated than she was. There would be a lot of people at the opera, but the only few that could speak English that he'd be around were her associates. They would rather shoot him than help him – several had actually told him that to his face, telling him if they ever caught him alone, that's exactly what would happen. Was it the fact Chrissie was crazy that kept them from keeping that promise? Or the fact she seemed to have connections worldwide and as crazy as she was, he secretly was impressed by how fast she could move drugs of any kind and any amount. She was an efficient drug dealer in the scariest way.

"How do I look?" Chrissie asked as she came out of the bathroom.

Ryan looked up. He would never tell her that before she kidnapped him, when he thought she was a normal girl, he was actually attracted to her. She was all curves and the dress she wore tonight – a black silk gown with red velvet accents – was quite attractive on her.

Ryan looked down without answering her. She walked over to the bench he sat on and sat next to him. She took his hand, watching his face.

"You can talk to me, honey. I wish you would. You're always so sad." She turned his wrist over, covering the scars there with her hand.

Ryan looked up when the maid came in with is suit coat. She laid it on the bed beside him and passed without a smile. But Ryan knew she wasn't as cold as she came across when Chrissie was around…


	11. Moscow, 5 months Ago

**MOSCOW : FIVE MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Ryan was shaking as Chrissie unlocked the handcuffs. His body ached from the torture she'd inflicted, claiming she was teaching him to be a better husband. He rolled onto his side as soon as he was free, pulling into a ball. He stared into the bathroom, at the broken pieces of mirror that lay on the floor.

It started with a letter a servant had found with the rest of the mail. She caught him in the bathroom and had been gone after him with scissor. When she couldn't beat on him anymore, a guard finished the job by slamming him into the bathroom mirror and then dragging him to the bed. Then came violent rape.

Chrissie leaned over him, wrapping an arm around him. She kissed his shoulder over a fresh cut.

"I love you. I wish you would stop this. It's been almost two years. Why can't you just be happy with me?"

Ryan didn't answer, despite the snarling answers going through his mind: you kidnapped me, you beat me whenever you feel like it, you rape me, you're crazy, you're a drug dealer, you must be Satan's child because there's no other excuse for being as demented and violent as you are, I want to scratch your eyes out, rip out your arms, beat you to death.

"You'll learn. It might take years, but you'll learn." She kissed his neck and moved away.

Ryan closed his eyes, pressing out silent tears. Years. He had to endure this for years? He heard Chrissie leave the room, telling the guard something. He looked into the bathroom, at the broken mirror. No. He wouldn't endure this for years.

Ryan climbed onto his feet. His legs felt like rubber and he had a hard time keeping his balance. Stiff-legged he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Ryan slipped the lock into place, and then looked down at the broken mirror pieces. He found the one with the sharpest edge and laid down on the floor, pressing his body against the door. Ryan held up his wrists, staring at them. He started crying. He didn't really want to do this, but it was the only way to escape her. There was no other way.

Carefully he lined up the glass on his wrist and then jabbed it in, crying out in pain as he drug it down, severing the vein under the skin. Trying to do the same to his other wrist hurt worse, making him cry out louder. Someone tried to open the door, when it wouldn't open, the person started pounding and hitting it.

"Open door, Ryan. Open door now!" the guard demanded in his broken English.

Ryan dropped the piece of mirror and laid his wrists on the floor. He watched his blood pool around them until it ran down the floor toward the tub.

"Ryan, open the door," Chrissie said, twisting the door handle.

"Fuck you," Ryan muttered. "Fucking bitch. I hate you."

He felt fuzzy, strangely warm. He heard a key hit the lock overhead. Then the door was being pushed against him, but his dead weight was keeping it closed.

"Ryan, move," Chrissie demanded.

He closed his eyes. He couldn't concentrate any more. The thoughts going through his mind were disjointed and didn't make any sense.

"RYAN! MOVE!" Chrissie ordered.

Ryan opened his eyes. The world was starting to fade into blackness. He welcomed it, embracing his new found freedom.

Chrissie begging, "Ryan, please move. Please," was the last thing he heard.

#

Ryan woke up to find himself in a hospital bed. For a few seconds he thought he'd just been having a nightmare, and he was actually safe in Miami. But it shattered when he turned his head and saw Chrissie standing in the hall with a doctor. Ryan lifted his wrists, staring at the clean white bandages. There were spots of blood showing through them. He'd failed. How the hell did he fail?

"Hey, honey," Chrissie said.

Warily he watched her walk in with the doctor. Ryan pulled his wrists back when she reached for one. He glared at her, hating her even more for saving his life. She grabbed a hand anyway.

"We'll go home in a few days. Don't worry. I had them clean up the mirror. I guess we'll have to start cutting up your food too. We don't want you to try this again."

Ryan yanked his hand away.

"Stop it!" she snapped.

The doctor said something and she came back with a spitting response. He didn't seem to notice or care, because he said something back, and then left the room. Chrissie smiled down at Ryan, running her fingers along his face.

"I hate this beard. We should shave it off."

Ryan rolled over, putting his back to her. It depressed him more that he'd failed. He would have to figure out a better way for next time.

"You like Anja, don't you? The new maid that replaced Alted."

Ryan didn't answer.

"I hope you do. She's going to be watching out for you when you're at home now. She'll sit with you when me or the guards can't. We don't want you hurt, do we?"

Ryan shrugged her hand off when she laid it on his shoulder. He heard her angry sigh, but here she couldn't beat him for pushing her away. For a little while he was safe.


	12. Moscow, 4 months Ago

**MOSCOW : FOUR MONTHS AGO**

* * *

Anja came in with a small tray. It had a glass of juice, seven different pills, a mortar and pestle, and a thermometer. Ryan woke when it made a soft ting as she sat it on the marble bedside table. She looked down at him as she sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the thermometer. He glanced at the door. The guards had left – it was their break when Anja was in there. She hadn't said much to him since the first day they met, and he had no idea what had happened to the note. He believed, though, she had either changed her mind or tricked him.

"Open," Anja said.

Ryan looked at her, she was waiting with the thermometer. He obeyed, taking it. She cleared her throat, reaching into her dress, and pulling out a small box plastic box with a single switch. She flicked the switch and then slipped it into her sleeve.

"We have little time," Anja said. "They will notice bugs not working soon."

Ryan reached for the thermometer, but she pushed his hand down. "No. Leave. Make look good. I send note to Horatio. He know. I say not much, but you trust Anja. I help."

"She's going to know you did that. She's not stupid, unfortunately."

Anja smiled, patting his shoulder. "She hire me to kill you. She stupid."

"If you're not here to kill me, then what are you here for?"

Anja took the thermometer out, glancing at the reading. "Trust Anja. I watch out for you." She looked down at him. "You'll know when to. But no more hurt self." Anja picked up his wrist. It was still wrapped in white gauze, covering ugly stitches and the healing cuts. "Promise Anja."

"I promise."

"Good. No more talk." Anja slipped the box out, flicked the switch and put it in her bra.

About the same time two guards came into the room and started searching it. She went on preparing his orange juice with the crushed pills. She handed it to him and he hesitated. There were sedatives in it. They made him unable to reject Chrissie's advances and he felt like a zombie most of the time.

"Better you drink," Anja said.

Ryan took it and drank it. Hope was forcing him to trust Anja, because she was the last shred of hope he had left in him.


	13. Moscow, 1 month, 2 weeks Ago

**MOSCOW : ONE MONTH, TWO WEEKS AGO**

* * *

From the time Anja told Ryan that Horatio knew where he was he found it hard to keep quiet about it. He wanted her to find out more, to tell Horatio more, but he knew the danger of trying to talk to her about it, so he remained silent. It had led him to days where he doubted her and refused to cooperate with her, but she always reassured him by whispering, "Time soon come. Patience."

"Anja," Chrissie said.

Anja stopped and turned to her. Chrissie said something in Russian and Anja nodded. She left the room. Chrissie got up, picking up Ryan's jacket and holding it open for him.

"The opera isn't coming to us. Come on, Ryan."

He got up and put on the jacket. She grabbed his hand and they headed downstairs. In front of the flat a limousine waited. The back door opened and one of Chrissie's associates got out. The two struck up a conversation in Russian, excluding Ryan. He looked down until something flashed in his eyes. He looked up, expecting it to be one of the children that often played across the street. They were two were sitting on stairs, one of them flashing a mirror into Ryan's eyes. When he noticed Ryan was paying attention, he stopped and looked at the man sitting next to him. Ryan's eyes followed.

Even after two years the sunglasses and wisps of red hair peaking from under a hat were unmistakable. Horatio's face was half hidden by a newspaper, but Ryan knew he was watching him. He wanted to bolt or to call out to Horatio, but he knew better. He knew he couldn't give him away. Horatio would have made a move if he could have, he knew that. Ryan had to wait. Just knowing he was in Moscow and knew where he was would have to be enough. Ryan climbed into the back of the limousine, sliding next to the door. He stared at Horatio, who held his eyes without moving.

Chrissie got in and curled up against Ryan, kissing his cheek. He closed his eyes, sneering.

She kissed his cheek, whispering, "Behave. It's not to late to drag your ass back inside and remind you about good manners."

Ryan looked at the floor. He wouldn't give Horatio away to Chrissie. Ryan sat back and she slid an arm around his shoulders. She and the associate continued their conversation.

* * *

Delko watched the front door of the flat on the monitor. The room was filled with police and government officials with long titles. He looked back when Horatio came in and pulled off his hat.

"Did he see you?" Delko asked.

"He saw me." Horatio sat in the chair next to him.

"He looks sick. Thin."

"Didn't Agent Anja tell us he hardly eats?"

Delko looked across the room. Anja was talking with police and soldiers -- she told them they weren't getting Ryan today, again. They had to wait for a party Chrissie was throwing tomorrow. Delko argued, but Anja calmed him down. She told him that her specialty was dismantling drug rings in Russia by whatever means were necessary, but she had every intention of keeping Ryan safe doing it this time. She liked him, she admitted, and no one deserved the life Chrissie had forced him into. There was something angry in the way Anja said that. Something that hinted Anja more than liked Ryan, but her duty came before her heart.


	14. Moscow, 1 month, 1 week Ago

**MOSCOW, DOMODEDOVO AIRPORT**** : ONE MONTH, ONE WEEK AGO**

* * *

Without warning, the second the two had landed in Moscow, police roughly drug them off the plane and took them into back rooms. They sat for eight hours with two officers that only spoke to offer them drinks and magazines. They wouldn't say anything more. Then two armed men in black suits arrived and without answering any questions, ushered them through the bowls of the airport to where an old man waited with a pickup that looked ready to break down. There was a short exchange of words…

"Eric?" Horatio asked.

"They're telling him where he needs to take us. It's an airport just outside of the city and…"

Eric stopped when the men gave the old man a stack of cash that he quickly pocketed. He motioned the two to follow and they got in his pick up. He drove them out a gate where the guard appeared to be dozing. Eric asked the man if he knew what was going on, he told them he didn't know or care. They paid him not to ask questions and he was doing just that.

At the airport the man leaned out the window and in Russian told Eric, "There's a white plane with this number on it. The pilot is waiting for you. Get on and he will take you somewhere else. That's all they said." The man then sped out of the parking lot, leaving the two baffled CSI alone.

They found the plane and the pilot refused to talk to either of them beyond, "Get in."

He flew them to this military base…

Horatio and Delko climbed out of the fixed wing plane and were greeted by American Ambassador Dalton Pierce. He didn't even wait to shake their hands or greet them before herding them into the waiting Hummer with tinted windows. Inside they found President Ruslan and a young woman dressed like a maid: sandy blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, knee length black cotton dress, thick stockings that disappeared into sensible shoes.

"Horatio Caine, Eric Delko," Dalton began as soon as the door was shut. "This is President Ruslan and this is Agent Anja."

There was a brief moment of handshakes. The vehicle lurched forward and left the small airstrip.

"Anja tells me there is a policeman this woman has taken captive." Ruslan pulled a photo of people out of his suit pocket, and pointed at Chrissie.

Horatio took it, looking at her. He nodded. "Yes. She kidnapped one of my officers."

"For what purpose?" Ruslan questioned.

Horatio handed the photograph back. "She became infatuated with him. From the letter I received from someone, it appears she tried to force him to marry her."

Ruslan sighed. "We have finally tracked a large portion of our drug traffic back to this woman and we have enough evidence to deal with her. In a few days—"

"Deal with her? What does that mean?" Horatio asked.

"You not want know," Anja told him. "It is how we deal with the problem, not how American's do."

Delko glanced at Horatio, openly concerned.

"You're going to kill her."

They didn't agree or disagree, but it was a loud enough yes.

"And when you do this, I imagine it won't go well. I was told he is guarded."

Anja nodded. "All times. He is her possession and her weakness. I must use him."

"Use him? How?" Delko asked.

She leaned out, laying a hand on his knee. "I know he good. I do what I can to protect him, but I must use him. He is her only weakness. He is only thing she will come into open to get back. Nothing else worked."

"You plan on kidnapping him from her," Horatio stated.

"Yes," Anja told him. "And lure her to him."

Horatio didn't like this plan. "You set me the letter, didn't you?"

"I did. I am glad you contact us, that you here now. The night before we kidnap, I believe he need see you. Make him calmer."

"Allow me to have one of my officers join you. It will help calm him."

"No. She likely know you if she took him. I can't—"

"Look, I know this bust is important to you. I get that," Delko blurted. "But Ryan has been through hell for two years now. Chrissie tied him in a coffin when she kidnapped him. It was recovered and there's evidence that… He won't know you. He's not going to know if he can trust you, even if you did tell him you were sending a letter. Let one of us be there to convince him he's safe and he will cooperate."

"We not go in tomorrow, Eric," Anja told him. "I will speak to commander. We decide if to include you. You will stay on base where we tell you. She see you, this all over. Understand?"

"How long will we have to wait?" Horatio asked.

"I not know. Have to wait for time we can get Ryan separated. We are always prepared for this. When happen, be fast."

"You understand we haven't seen him in two years. We don't know if he's okay. We're anxious to know that."

Anja looked down. President Ruslan looked at her and nodded once. She picked up a purse that had been hidden under the edge of her dress and pulled out a photograph. She handed it to them. Delko took it, staring at Ryan. He looked like he was dead. Where his full beard didn't hide skin, he was sallow, his eyes and cheeks sunken slightly, and there were fresh bruises and cuts. It almost didn't look like Ryan.

"This…" Delko caught a breath. "This isn't Ryan. This can't be…"

"It is your Ryan. He hardly eat. He sad all time. She drug him now to stop him fighting so much."

Delko let Horatio take the photograph.

In Russian she told him, "It is Ryan, and he is alive. He must be strong. He's survived her abuse for two years now. He knows I am going to help him, somehow, and he trusts me. I ask you to do the same. I will bring him to you alive and safe. I promise on my life. I promise."

Delko nodded.


	15. Moscow, 1 month Ago

**MOSCOW**** : ****ONE MONTH AGO**

* * *

The party was going like most. Chrissie's arm was tightly wrapped around Ryan's, her pet on a leash. She was making contacts, networking, doing what she was good at. He looked up when the maid came up with a drink for Chrissie. She said something. Chrissie looked up at Ryan, then nodded and let his arm go. She disappeared into the crowd, chasing down someone. The maid motioned him in the direction she wanted him to go. Ryan started walking.

They were passing a door under the stairs when suddenly she grabbed the back of his jacket and swung him toward the stairs. He was expecting the wall, but instead the door was open and he flew inside. She slammed the door shut, pushing him against the wall. Before he could speak, she was pulling a gas mask on his head. She pulled one on her own, looking into his eyes.

"We wait," she told him. She reached under a stair above their heads and pulled out a pistol.

She reached under a stair above their heads and pulled out a pistol. Fire alarms suddenly blared and quickly smoke filled the closet. She turned, aiming a gun when the door opened. Two men dressed like firefighters were waiting with uniforms. Anja handed a pair to Ryan.

"Hurry. Dress."

Ryan did as she told him and they headed for the door. One of the men hefted a body over his shoulder, an unconscious young woman that was light enough for him to carry. One followed along on his other side, just slightly ahead of him. The four walked out, right past Chrissie who was staring wide-eyed at the flat, crying.

A paramedic came forward and took the woman, then one of the men grabbed Ryan's arm and led him behind the equipment to a Hummer with tinted windows. The four got in and the driver pulled away. Ryan ripped off his gas mask, hit with a cold realization.

"She's going to come after me," Ryan whispered, then gasped back a sob.

"Yes. We need her to."

Ryan looked at Anja. She was pulling off the firefighter uniform. She looked at him.

"Who are you? Are you a competitor?"

"No, Ryan, she's not," the driver said.

Ryan's head jerked up. He knew that voice. And when they passed a light, he knew that red hair. Ryan lunged forward, leaning on the seat so he could see Horatio's face. He started shaking and the harder he tried not to cry, the harder he cried.

"Horatio!" Ryan wanted to hug him.

Horatio held up his free hand and Ryan took it. Suddenly he pushed his hand up, pulling Ryan's head to his shoulder. Ryan wasn't the only one who didn't want to let go for fear sleep would end and this dream would be over.

Ryan broke into sobs. He wrapped an arm around Horatio.

"You will be safe, Ryan. You just have to do as Anja asks. She will protect you, we all will. They need you to help arrest Chrissie. Will you help them?"

"God, yes!"

The man patted Ryan's neck, silently reassuring him of his safety. Ryan glanced back when Anja took his hand. She smiled, holding on tight.

"You will be safe. I promise."

* * *

"It was just a smoke bomb," the firefighter told Chrissie, holding up the canister.

Chrissie snatched it from his hand. She suddenly threw it and turned to her men.

"Find Ryan! And that bitch Anja."

They searched, but the two had vanished. The party had ended the minute the fire alarms went off, which was a good thing for the partygoers. Finding Ryan missing, and realizing the woman she'd hired to keep him in check had taken him, enraged Chrissie. She started breaking things in her rage, and then beat one of the other maids to death in Anja's place.

Exhausted from murder, she fell into a chair, oblivious to the blood covering her.

The phone rang and she let one of the maids answer it. The woman timidly approached Chrissie, holding it out to her.

"For you, ma'am."

Chrissie snatched it way, sending the maid scurrying away with a hateful sneer.

"Hello?" Chrissie snapped.

"I want to meet," Anja said.

"Where is he? Where is my husband?"

"He's safe. For now. In the morning a letter will arrive with an address. You will go there. Bring your list of vendors and dealers."

"If you hurt him, I will kill you."

"I have no doubt." Anja hung up.

Chrissie looked at the bloody body on the floor. "Get rid of that!" she screamed at her staff.

* * *

A limousine drove along the dirt road toward the abandon ore refinery. In the back, Chrissie glared at the building.

The limousine stopped outside of the building and she climbed out, scanning the roofs for her snipers. She didn't see them, but they were good at their job, so she didn't really expect to. She didn't know that her snipers had bee caught on the way to their positions, and if they weren't arrested, they were killed.

Chrissie straightened her coat and headed inside with her two bodyguards. Sitting in the open sat Ryan on a chair with his hands tied behind him. Next to him stood Chrissie's ex-maid Anja with a gun in hand.

"That's close enough," Anja said.

"What do you want?"

"Show me the list."

Chrissie smiled. "I'm the top dealer here. You are not going to run me out of town?"

Anja smiled. "Yes. I am." She aimed the gun at Ryan's head. "The list."

Chrissie pulled a CD from her pocket. "They're all on here."

Anja walked forward, holding out her hand. Chrissie gave her the CD and then she backed up, handing the CD to Ryan.

"Is it the list, Ryan?"

Ryan's hands dropped from behind him and h picked up a laptop from under the chair. Chrissie couldn't hide how much his betrayal shocked her. She took a step forward and Anja aimed her gun at her. Ryan took the CD and checked the contents.

"Yes. These are all of her vendors and dealers. It's complete."

"What are you doing?" Chrissie asked Ran.

He looked up at her. "Getting revenge. You didn't really think I wouldn't turn on you, did you, Chrissie?"

"You love me!" she screamed.

"I wish you were dead!" Ryan screamed back.

From hiding police and soldiers swarmed out. Chrissie pulled a gun and aimed it at her own head. Anja shot her in the leg and ran up, stomping down on Chrissie's wrist. She aimed at her head.

"I help you do that," Anja told Chrissie, and then shot her in the forehead.

Ryan stood up, staring. Anja looked back at him.

"I promised you be safe. I keep promise always." Anja turned and disappeared into the swarm of people.

Ryan was numb. He wasn't sure if what Anja just did was a blessing or a curse. For too long he'd lived Chrissie's prisoner that part of him was angry and upset at Anja for killing her. Part of him was so lost it couldn't really grasp the freedom Chrissie's death brought. That part would always be searching for her, expecting to see her behind every shadow, in every closet, under every staircase.

Ryan didn't feel Delko's hand on his shoulder, or notice Horatio stand on his opposite side.

"Let's go home, Ryan."

Ryan let them guide him because home wasn't a concept he fully grasped any more.


	16. Miami, Present

**MIAMI PD : PRESENT**

* * *

Calleigh walked past the lab and stopped. She turned. Ryan was staring at the table in front of him, motionless. Calleigh walked into the lab and before she approached him started talking.

"Ryan. Hey, Ryan."

Even with warning he was still startled by her. His head jerked up and his eyes found her. For a minute or two he didn't see her – she knew who he was seeing. It made her stop and wait, but never stopped talking.

"Ryan, can I com around the counter? Is that okay? Ryan?"

He was back suddenly. He smiled nervously. "What?"

She walked around the counter, standing close. She was the only woman he allowed to be close. Not even Natalia was allowed this close to him. And when she reached out and cupped his elbow in her hand, it was another thing only she was allowed to do – touch him. She'd walked in on him screaming at female lab techs who touched him without permission, she'd held Natalia while she cried for being yelled at when he turned and found her right behind him, and she was constantly smoothing over fights between him and other females in the lab.

But then, only she and Delko knew that most nights he had nightmares that left him screaming and begging Chrissie to stop hurting him. Many nights Calleigh had run into his room and helped him pull out of the nightmares that were threatening to hold him forever. She held his hands, helping him chase away the demon that even in death was torturing Ryan. She had earned Ryan's unwavering trust when she came home one day and gave him the number of perhaps the only male therapist in Miami that worked with rape victims.

"Don't go there, Ryan," Calleigh quietly told him.

He became teary eyed and looked at the floor. "I can't help it. It happens if I don't keep busy all the time."

She rubbed his back. "Before it happened all the time, so we're making progress."

Ryan smiled, nodding.

"Okay. I have to make a delivery. Call if you need me."

Calleigh turned, finding Natalia waiting at the door. She smiled as Calleigh passed, and then approached the counter opposite Ryan.

"Hi," Natalia said with a nervous smile. His verbal attack from two weeks ago was still fresh on her mind.

He looked up at her. "Hey."

"Did you get the trace finished for me?"

"Just finish…" He looked at the screen. "Oh. It's done. I guess I didn't notice." Ryan grabbed the monitor to turn it toward her. He stopped, staring at the screen.

"What is it?"

"Why don't you come around here? We can go over this together." Ryan looked at her.

She hesitated. Slowly she walked around and stood next to him. Ryan pulled up the test results and started talking. Natalia watched him with a smile. He stopped when he noticed.

"What?" Ryan asked.

"It's nice to be close to my friend again," she told him.

Ryan blushed, looking down.

"Go on," Natalia told him.

He continued.


End file.
